


The Sailor and the Siren

by Seraph Luray (PastelPanda)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: AU, M/M, siren au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelPanda/pseuds/Seraph%20Luray
Summary: Sorey is a sailor who lives alone near the sea.  Mikleo is a siren whose life is nothing but monotonous.  The two worlds aren't to meet, yet fate conspires in strange ways.





	1. A Song from the Waves

The salty breeze traveling inland from the waves never failed to slough off the shackles of sleep, and watching the golden hues of the sunrise was enough to put a spring in one’s step.  Mornings in Gododdin were always like this--slow and peaceful, but never boring--and while most would deem it a life of monotony, to Sorey, it was all he could ask for.

Stretching his arms above his head, the young man cast his sights to the vast blue expanse before him.  The weather was clear, the sea calm, the breeze gentle; today would be a fine day for sailing without fear.

“The Sparrowfeathers should be in town soon,” Sorey mused aloud as he continued his morning stretches, bending forward to lock his fingers under his toes.  “And the sea bass should be coming back closer to shore, so I could probably catch a few for the market...hmm, maybe I should catch extra in case they don’t have any sweetfish from Ladylake...”

His routine rarely strayed from the norm, giving him something to do with his days.  Go fishing in the spring and summer, hunting in the fall.  Stock up on salted bass and dried jerky.  Bring some sort of product to the market when the Sparrowfeathers came into town to trade with them.  Rinse and repeat.  The constant activity had kept him fit and healthy as he grew, alone on the outskirts of the town he loosely called home.

Stepping back into his little hut, he approached his washbasin, filled with clean water from the night’s rain.  Giving his face a quick splash and scrub, Sorey looked at his reflection in the polished metal disc he had hung on the wall.  Slightly calloused fingers brushed over the scar under his right eye, a hooked crescent shape on his cheekbone he could never recall getting.

“You’ve had that all your life, haven’t you?” Slenge had once asked him.  “Perhaps it isn't a scar, but a birthmark of sorts.”

_If it is a birthmark, why does it hurt?_ Sorey pondered, lightly poking the mark.  A dull ache, like a week-old bruise, throbbed through his cheek, not enough to flinch away but still enough to acknowledge.  It was like another tradition of his, a way to check that he was awake and not dreaming, as peculiar as it would likely seem.

Well, there was no sense in wondering.  The mark had been there for his entire eighteen years, and there was nothing that could change it.  He slapped his own cheeks a couple of times, his skin stinging from the lingering chill of the water.  Giving himself a confident grin in the mirror (with an equally confident pose, his fists planted on his hips and his feet wide apart), he nodded affirmatively.

“Alright, time to get to work!”

He dressed himself quickly--a thick tunic, heavy pants, and hard leather boots, to protect himself from the lingering chill as winter gave way to spring--and snatched up his bag, packed with his hunting knife, canteen, and first-aid essentials, before hastening out the door with long, fast strides.  His soles left shallow prints in the soft, damp dirt as he trekked down the hill to his makeshift dock, careful not to slip on the way down.

At the dock waited his boat, a small one-man craft with a simple sail and a pair of oars.  His fishing equipment--a net, a fishing pole, a bucket, and a leather-lined chest he could fill with water--were still safely tucked under the tarp he laid out to protect them from the elements.  With ease showing years of the same activity, he filled the chest at the dock and set it into the boat, looping a length of rope through the handles and through a pair of hooks on the boat.  After checking that there were no frays in the net and that the fishing pole wasn’t likely to split, he stepped into the boat himself.

After untying the line holding the boat in place and pulling up his makeshift anchor (which was really just a stone at the end of a thick rope), Sorey seated himself and took up his oars, and with slow, precise movements, he set out to sea.

As the hillside and shoreline drifted away, and Sorey felt his arms starting to tighten from rowing, he checked the wind.  It was just enough to fill the sails and guide the boat, so he decided to give himself a break.  With a quick tug of a rope, the canvas sail unfurled, and he set the oars back into the boat before shifting to man the rudder instead, keeping the boat on a straight path.

The gentle rocking of the waves was always soothing to Sorey, a feeling similar to the gentle rocking of an infant’s cradle.  He closed his eyes, feeling himself drifting along in the quiet expanse of the sea.  Slowly, his grip on the rudder eased, his head lolling forward as he began to doze off.

The sharp cry of a seagull tore Sorey from his sleep, the youth jerking awake with a yelp.  He looked about in a bleary haze, spotting the shore far off in the distance.  How long had he been sleeping?  He’d far overshot his usual fishing spot, and it was unlikely that he would find much this far out at sea with just his own equipment.  He didn't have any of the fancier gear that the professional fishermen used, after all.

Heaving a sigh, Sorey picked up his anchor and dropped it into the depths, waiting for the tug on the line that would signal the rock settling down on the seafloor.  It came roughly a minute later, and after opening his storage chest, he prepared to cast out his line.

**_“...tant lusibus inter fluctus, et hoc pallet luna dirigendos pedes nostros...”_ **

As Sorey reared his arm back, a distant sound reached his ears.  He paused, remaining as still as he could to hear the sound better.  It was...a song...?

**_“O lux argento ducat laus mea et usque ad nubes...”_ **

It was indeed a song, Sorey realized.  A gentle and somber melody, on a voice as delicate as a glass chime.  Where was it coming from?  There was no one around for miles out here, and the song sounded much too close to be coming from the shore.

**_“...reliquum est ut animam sub caerula caeli...”_ **

The last note faded out smoothly, before the voice returned to the first verse Sorey had heard.  By this point, Sorey had already set down his fishing pole, and was leaning over the edge of the boat as he realized that the song was coming from below the waves.  The voice was so clear and pure, as though the singer was right next to him...was he hallucinating?  He gave his scar a gentle prod, feeling the pain bloom in his cheek once more.  This was no dream, but was the sea singing to him...?

By the third repetition, Sorey had found himself lost in the song.  Like a lullaby, it cleared his mind, his thoughts ebbing like the tide.  He leaned forward, his boat starting to tip from his weight.  Only one thought came to mind.

He wanted to meet whoever was singing.

As the last verse ended, Sorey slipped overboard, plunging into the cold and vast blue depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorey is an amateur sailor who lives alone on the outskirts of Gododdin. He was orphaned as a baby and raised by the people of Gododdin, namely Slenge. He makes his living catching fish and wild game and, after preparing food to last for about a week or so, bringing the rest down to the marketplace in town to sell or trade for goods, either as-is or cured with the animal hide already prepared to be turned into leather. The Sparrowfeathers visit Gododdin for three days every two months, which is the best time to sell.
> 
> Sorey lives on a hillside, which has great access to both the sea and a plentiful forest. His hut is small and simple with just the essentials he needs–a washbasin, a bedroll, a trunk for his clothes, and a few shelves. He has to purchase barrels of water from the market, but he has a makeshift rainwater collection system rigged up so he doesn’t have to worry about running low.
> 
> Also yes that is indeed who you think it is singing. I went with Latin for the lyrics because…well, personal preference. I think Latin sounds extra pretty.
> 
> Translations for the song:  
> “[Ut exul]tant lusibus inter fluctus, et hoc pallet luna dirigendos pedes nostros…” - "[As we dance a]mong the waves, let this pale moon guide us..."  
> "O lux argento ducat laus mea et usque ad nubes..." - "Oh silver light, carry my song, so that my voice may reach the skies..."  
> "...reliquum est ut animam sub caerula caeli..." - "...and let this weary soul rest beneath this azure sky..."


	2. Dancing in the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikleo lives a monotonous life, one that he would give anything to escape from. His life, however, is ready to take an unexpected turn--when something from the surface world makes itself known to him.

The gentle churning of the sea, pushed and pulled by the current, was enough to lull anyone to a peaceful slumber, and the sunlight filtering through the surface was just enough to illuminate the sea, though not so much as to blind anyone.  It was a beautiful sight, an entrancing and peaceful experience few could experience.

Mikleo sighed, resting his chin on his forearms as he readjusted how he was resting on the algae covered rock he claimed as his own.  Every day was the same thing--wake up, help with gathering food for the pod, then swim off to his usual spot and watch the surface.  Occasionally he would pass the time by singing, his voice luring schools of playful fish to him that he would dance around.

Aside from that detail, however, his life was monotonous.  So painfully, agonisingly monotonous.

Mikleo ran a hand through his hair, long and flowing and a shimmering hue of silvery blue.  It was tedious to maintain without the strip of seaweed he used to tie it back, but until he could replace the one he’d torn, he would have to deal with it.  For now he could do little more than push the soft locks out of his face and try to keep it collected behind his back.

Casting a gaze to the surface, he realized that the day had scarcely begun, the light of early morning drifting through the waves.  The sun couldn't have been out longer than two hours, if that.

A groan fell from his lips as he buried his face in his arms, faced with the reality that this would be a dreadfully long day.

Time seemed to drag on slower than usual, Mikleo noted as he continued to steal glances at the surface.  A handful of wandering fish would approach him at random, giving him a brief moment of joy before it flitted away to return to its school, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more.

Before long, the boredom had become too intolerable, driving the boy mad.  He surveyed the sea, gauging how calm it was.  No predators in sight, a calm current that wouldn't toss him about like a guppy in a storm...

And nothing traveling along the surface.

“You must never associate yourself with the beings of the surface world,” Gramps had warned him throughout his life.  “They are dangerous beings, and their kind bring nothing but destruction.”

_ Even so, I don’t think it could be  _ that  _ bad if one of them heard me, _ Mikleo told himself as he swam toward a large, open coral reef.  A splash from above brought pause, but after seeing nothing that could warrant caution, he continued swimming, coming to a stop in the middle of the reef.  There was more than enough room to dance here, should some fish decide to join him.

Drawing in a deep breath, Mikleo let his voice carry through the sea.

_**“Ut exultant lusibus inter fluctus, et hoc pallet luna dirigendos pedes nostros...”** _

All at once, it was as though life in the sea came to a halt.  Whether it was true that his song stopped time, or if he was simply so enthralled by his own singing, Mikleo was never sure, but he did know that, should he be unable to sing, life may as well be over for him.

As he sang, like expected, a small school of playful clownfish approached him, swimming circles around him.  He twirled through the water, weightless as body and voice mingled in a graceful performance accompanied by his bright orange friends.

The song was short, almost sadly so, so Mikleo simply repeated it.  He would sing until he was hoarse, if need be, just to stave off the oppressing boredom that plagued his days.

After the third repetition, however, a heavy splash from above cut his concert short.  He jolted in alarm, the fish scattering in every direction for their own safety.  Mikleo looked about in a panic, eyes scanning the surface for whatever could have made such a sound.  The first thing he saw was a large shadow resting on the waves, but that wasn’t was caused his heart to leap into his throat.

Just below the shadow, amidst a cloud of bubbles and sinking fast, was a figure unlike any he had ever seen.

Its upper body was similar to his own, though lumpy and blue, but the similarity ended there.  Instead of one tail that bent smoothly down its length, this figure had two tails, bent awkwardly at the hips and again halfway down.  Like the upper body, these tails were lumpy and strange, white as opposed to blue.  Oddly, the figure had no fins to speak of, making it seem all the stranger.

However, another wave of panic set in as Mikleo realized the figure wasn't moving, and the bubbles that passed its lips told him that this peculiar creature, like a dolphin, couldn't breathe underwater.

With a quick kick of his tail, Mikleo abandoned the warnings he had heard of the surface world and approached the figure, hooking his arms around the figure’s chest--and realizing now that the figure was a male--and hauling him toward the surface.  He was heavy, unusually so, and Mikleo noted that his strange and lumpy appearance weren’t his actual form; under the rough material that scratched his skin, Mikleo could feel a lean and muscular body.

It was a struggle to carry dead weight in any sense, as Mikleo knew from helping Mason haul large catches back to the pod, but trying to carry anything upward was an even greater burden.  Still, Mikleo wasn’t about to just leave this stranger here, and after redoubling his efforts he managed to breach the surface.  Drawing in a breath of air (and coughing slightly as he adjusted to the change), he looked to the man in his arms.

Now that he could see him more clearly, Mikleo could see that, face-wise, he wasn’t much different from himself.  However, his ears didn’t look the same; while Mikleo had thin fins on the sides of his head to pick up vibrations (and now that his head was out of the water, everything sounded muffled and distant) this stranger had peculiar, thick shells the same color as his skin.

Wait, why was he focusing on that?!

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Mikleo looked around for that large shadow he had seen before.  He eventually spotted it--a bizarre shape made of wood that resembled the ruined wrecks he sometimes found on the seabed.  Boats, Gramps had called them.

With the stranger securely held against his chest, Mikleo swam on his back toward the boat.  Its edge was low enough that he could peer inside, finding it rather dry.  This would work to get this two-tailed creature out of the water.

_ Or maybe he’s some weird squid or octopus, _ he distantly pondered as he heaved himself up over the boat’s edge, flopping and thrashing and nearly tipping the thing over as he clambered his way in.  It took a bit more work than he would have liked, but he eventually managed to get not only himself but the stranger safely into the boat, though he struggled to catch his breath afterward.

A container full of water caught Mikleo’s eye, and after dragging himself toward it with all the grace of a seal on a rock shelf, he plunged his head in.  It was a bit warmer than the sea, but certainly a weight off his chest.  A moment was all it took before he lifted his head out of the water and turned his attention back to the figure, who still had yet to move.

He wasn’t dead, right...?

Flopping his way back to his side, Mikleo gave him a light smack on the cheek, the same way Natalie would when she woke him up.  He didn’t budge, prompting Mikleo to lift one of his eyelids.  The verdant green eye beneath was clear, but unfocused.  Leaning down, he rested his head on his chest.  His heartbeat was but a weak flutter, but it was still there, yet Mikleo could also hear a faint slosh-like sound, a telltale sign that he had inhaled water.

Rolling the stranger onto his stomach, Mikleo gave a sharp swat to his back, attempting to elicit some sort of response.  His fingertips twitched lightly, which Mikleo took as a good sign.  Another hit, another twitch.

“Come on, come on...” he muttered under his breath.

One more swat, this time with the side of his fist rather than his open palm, seemed to do the trick.  All at once, the stranger coughed up a substantial amount of water, his entire body lurching and heaving as he gulped down air.  He pushed himself up on his hands, bracing himself on the strange bend of his tails as he turned himself back over.  Sitting upright, his eyes opened, and Mikleo’s own violet eyes met a green more vibrant than the seaweed his pod cherished for their ornamentation.

Their gaze lingered for a few brief seconds before the warning from Gramps returned to Mikleo’s thoughts, and in a panic, he threw himself backwards, nearly tipping the boat again as he flung himself back into the water.

As he swam back to the depths, he awaited the scolding he was sure to get when he returned home, though his thoughts continued to roam back to the stranger.

Perhaps the monotony could finally end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this verse, sirens are indeed creatures of the sea who can beckon sailors into the sea with their voices. They resemble semi-conventional merfolk, with a fishlike tail and webbed hands, but they do not have gills. Sirens can breathe both air and water, though they can die if they dry out too much from being out of water.
> 
> Mikleo’s markings are intended to resemble a white-and-blue koi, which will be more highlighted in later chapters. He is an orphan who was raised by a moderate-sized pod by the elder, Zenrus (who everyone calls Gramps). He’s lived in isolation for the most part, but he does slip out of the pod’s view every so often, though he doesn’t go very far.


	3. A Mirror Split In Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seemed like a dream, but then it wasn't.

_ Did today really happen...? _

Sorey frowned as he dusted off his bedroll, preparing it for the night by airing off the musty odor that clung to it.  A cough and a wave of nausea paused him, the young man doubling over and clutching at his stomach.  The lingering feeling of heaviness in his gut and the pressure on his chest weren’t just some figment of his imagination, but simultaneously, there was no way what he’d seen when he came back to awareness was real...

* * *

 

_ Cold, cold blue. _

_ Stifling, suffocating.  His breath slipped away, silvery bubbles flowing from his lips.  Was he drowning?  He couldn’t tell.  The song had stopped, or perhaps his sense of hearing had failed him as consciousness left.  His chest ached, his limbs felt like lead.  Pressure crushed his ears, pulled him further down, down, down... _

_ And then the cold and stifling pressure lifted away, and his cheeks stung with chill from the air brushing them.  Attempts to breathe were met with failure, his chest crushed by invisible bindings that held his lungs and blocked his breath. _

_ It hurt.  It hurt, and he couldn’t claw his way back.  Wake up, wake up, wake up... _

_ “Come on, come on...” _

_ A voice, calling him.  It was distant, echoing in the dark tunnels around him, pulling him up-- _

_ He gasped, choked, coughed.  Water spilled from his lungs and throat, air rushing to replace lost breaths.  His head swam, spinning as though a compass near a magnet.  His eyes opened, hazy and unfocused, and fell upon what he could only describe as a mermaid. _

_ Long silver-tipped blue cascading over porcelain shoulders.  Violet pools that glimmered with the sunlight, pearlescent white and blue scales laying in a loose coil around their figure-- _

_ And just as fast as he had beheld his savior, the being was gone, slipping back into the waves, as if it had never been there before. _

* * *

 

It was such an unreal experience that Sorey had to truly question if he had just hallucinated his savior or not.  After finally regaining consciousness, he found he couldn’t continue fishing, as the rocking of the boat made him feel ill, and he had vomited more than once just trying to get back to the dock.  No food came up, just saltwater--he really had almost drowned, after all.

Fishing was definitely out of the question for the day, and as Sorey slowly trekked back up the hill to his hut, he had realized that he was too dizzy to hunt.  He had a decent stock of food in his storage so he would be okay for a few days should he be bedridden, but with the Sparrowfeathers coming to town soon, he needed  _ something _ to bring to market to get some supplies.

Patting his bedroll to smooth it out, Sorey seated himself on it, looking at the barrel of supplies he kept nearby.  There were some prickleboar hides he’d cleaned and prepared to make into leather, and tanning it wouldn’t be nearly as difficult as fishing or hunting.  Similarly, he’d found some with nice large tusks that he could probably find use for as well.  And he did have some salted bass that would keep quite well over large journeys, so there was that...

_ I think it’ll be fine if I just rest a bit and focus on what I already have, _ he decided as he inspected the hides.  Skinning knife in hand, he started trimming the hides to remove the excess that couldn’t be used as leather--it would make for nice fur trim on some boots, after all--and setting them aside.

He had roughly a week, if his calculations were right, to get the leather ready to go.  It would definitely be cutting it close, but hopefully he would be able to get things done in time.

After all of the hides--twelve in total, one of them was a bit too butchered from trying to catch the damned thing--were properly trimmed up, Sorey scooped them up and, stumbling with nausea and dizziness, carried them to a large basin outside his hut.  Opening one of his water barrels (and scooping out a handful to drink and wash out the salty taste in his mouth), he used a bucket to fill the basin, and set to scrubbing them clean.

Fifteen minutes later found Sorey laying on the ground as a heavy dizzy spell fell over him, toppling him.  Yep, he was definitely sick...

_ I guess I should just go lay down... _

The hides would be fine if they just soaked in the water for a day.  It would actually help soften them for the next step, after all.  Slowly rising to his feet, Sorey closed up the barrel, then stumbled back into his hut.  He foraged into a cabinet for some crusty bread he’d bought from the market the day prior, and carefully seated himself on his bedroll to eat his meager dinner.

He only managed to force down about half of the roll before feeling too full and nauseous to eat any more.  Groaning, he simply set the remaining half on a shelf and attempted to relax and sleep.  If this got any worse, he would need to brave a trip to purchase some medicine somehow.

As Sorey closed his eyes and drifted to a restless sleep, the last image in his vision was of the white-haired mermaid.

* * *

 

**_“YOU IDIOT!!!”_ **

The waves themselves quaked with terror at the roar from Zenrus, the siren’s scales illuminating his entire den with his anger.  Mikleo yelped, recoiling into himself at the anger that the elder siren emanated.

“I-I’m sorry, Gramps...” he meekly apologized, peeking up at him through his bangs.  Zenrus chewed on the end of his coral pipe, his teeth grinding against the material as the pipe rolled between his fingers.

“You know the rules, Mikleo,” Zenrus began, his tone quieter but no less angered.  “Sirens are never to associate with the surface world.  The agreement of centuries past still holds firm to this day--will you be the one to break it?”

“But he was drowning!  He was drowning because he heard me sing!  I-I didn’t think anyone was around to even hear me!”

“And why were you out far enough for a land-dweller to even be near you?  Our territory doesn’t stretch far enough inland for you to have gone near one.”

“I was still within our territory!  He was the one who was too far out!”

A bushy gray eyebrow lifted inquisitively.  “Was he, now...?”

“Yes!  Ask Mason or Natalie, I wasn’t even five minutes away from my usual spot!”

This brought silence to Zenrus, and his luminescent glow slowly ebbed.  He tapped his pipe to his lips, the glowing sea ash bubbling slightly with each movement.  “Strange...land-dwellers never stray out far from shore without reason.  And it was only one?”

“Yes, just the one.  He had a really small boat and there was no one else there, and there was a weird...square thing, full of water.”

“A fisherman, then.  You’re lucky that you didn’t end up becoming that land-dweller’s supper.”

Mikleo was quiet, thinking.  The strange two-tailed person didn’t seem like a dangerous fellow.  If anything, he looked more baffled than anything to see him.  Somehow, he didn’t think that the stranger would have harmed him even if he had stuck around a bit longer.

“Regardless, Mikleo, you are not to go anywhere near that land-dweller again.  The last thing we need is our pod being endangered.”

“...Okay, Gramps.  I’m sorry.”

As Mikleo began to swim away, Zenrus hummed to himself for just a brief moment.  “Mikleo.”

Mikleo paused, looking back to the elder.  His expression had softened, and his voice had done much the same to match.

“I don’t say this out of anger for no reason.  You are the only pup among our pod, and I have raised you as though you were my own son.  I only wish to protect you, where I failed to protect your mother.”

A tightness formed in Mikleo’s throat and chest at his words, and were he to have tear ducts he was sure he was tearing up.  Zenrus set his pipe down at his side and held his arms out to him; Mikleo slowly approached him, and settled into the offered hug.

“I am sorry to have reacted so harshly toward your actions.  Please, just promise you will be more careful in the future.”

“...I will.  Thank you, Gramps.”

The elder smiled, brushing Mikleo’s bangs out of his face and tracing his thumb over the shimmering jewel inset in the golden hoop around his forehead.  “You truly are the spitting image of your mother.  I am sure she would be proud of you.”

Those words lifted Mikleo’s spirits, and brought a smile back to his face.

* * *

 

Sorey definitely didn’t feel any better when morning came.

Opening his eyes yielded splitting pain behind them; the dim sunlight filtering into the hut felt all too bright, blindingly so.  He could feel blood pumping through his skull, throbbing in his ears.  His stomach and chest ached, and every breath felt as though he was attempting to breathe through a pinhole.  His limbs felt heavy, painfully so, so he knew moving would be out of the question for now.

Regardless, however, there was work to be done.  If he left those prickleboar hides in the water too long they were sure to putrefy, and he would be in a bind when the Sparrowfeathers came to market.

Carefully rising to his feet, he staggered and swayed toward his washbasin, splashing water onto his face and looking at his reflection.  His entire complexion had gone pale, his eyes red and boasting dark circles under them.  He’d definitely become ill from nearly drowning, and he would need to rest as soon as his work was done.

_ -knock knock knock!- _

Ah, that was just what he needed, a visitor while he was in this condition.  Sighing heavily, he slowly approached the door and opened it, peering outside.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead!”

The redhead greeting him was all-too-chipper for this hour--and also, all-too-early.  Sorey yelped in surprise, staggering backwards--and tripping over one of his boots, landing hard on his rear.  Rose laughed at the reaction, pushing the door open a bit more to hold a hand out to him.

“Not the greeting I was expecting, but I’ll take it!” she noted as Sorey accepted the offered hand to pull himself up.  Once she got a better look at him, however, her grin fell, eyes widening.  “Holy crap, what happened to you?  You look like garbage!”

“I, uh...fell overboard trying to fish yesterday...” Sorey replied.  It wasn’t exactly a lie, after all.

“You what?!  You need to be more careful if you still haven’t learned how to swim, you know!  You could’ve died!”

“Sorry, I snagged a pretty big one and it put up a fight.  It won.”

“Obviously.  Here, come on out.  I brought you some supplies to get you through for the next month or so.”

Sorey blinked, stammering in surprise as Rose already strolled out to the waiting barrels, satchels, and crates.  “W-wait a sec, I, uh...I didn’t manage to finish my supplies for the trade.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it!  Those bags and boots you made last time fetched a huge sum in Pendrago, so we decided that we could splurge a little and make up the difference.”

“Are you sure?  I mean, I have some hides I’m working on tanning, and I already trimmed up some fur strips, and I have some salted fish and smoked meat...”

“I said, don’t worry about it.”  Rose turned, giving Sorey a light poke on his forehead.  The man flinched with a small whine, and Rose quickly pulled her hand back.  “Oh--jeez, sorry, forgot about the headache.  Here, I think I brought some medicine too.  How about a pound of smoked meat in exchange if you’re so insistent?”

“That works...” Sorey groaned.  Slowly returning inside, he packed up a nice-sized leather pouch with strips of smoked boar jerky, then returned to see Rose holding a small canvas bag in one hand, and a large wrapped parcel in the other.

“What’s that?” he inquired, pointing at the parcel.

“Ah, this?  A little something I picked up in Marlind.  Eguile thought you might like it, so I held onto it to give it to you as a gift for being one of our best customers.”  She handed him the parcel and bag, Sorey giving her the jerky in return.  “You’re a book nut, right?  This might go nicely with your little collection.”

Carefully, Sorey unwrapped the twine holding the leather around the parcel, finding that it was a heavy, leather-bound book.  Stamped into the cover and inlaid in gold were the words,  _ The Mysteries of Glenwood: Myths, Monsters, and Miracles _ .

“Whoa, I’ve never seen this before!” he exclaimed, eyes lighting up and headache promptly forgotten.  “A-are you sure I can have this?”

“Of course!  You’re such a bookworm after all, I couldn’t help but think about you when Eguile showed it to me.”  Rose gave a grin, then looked to the supplies she’d brought with her.  “Want me to help you store all of this?”

“Ah--yeah, that would be a great help.”

It took roughly an hour to move everything around to a location where it wouldn’t be stolen or possibly damaged by the weather (or worse, by wild animals), but by the time they were done, not only did Sorey actually feel marginally better (at least, he did after vomiting as the smell of the soaking prickleboar hides hit his face with all the force of a wet canvas), but he was able to work up an appetite.  Rose joined him for a simple meal of goat cheese and cured sausage, and left him with a simple salute.

“You take care, okay?  We’ll be in town a while longer this time, one of our horses is sick.  She’s not eating.”

“Hopefully she feels better soon,” Sorey mused, waving to Rose as she left the hut.  After a few minutes, Sorey sighed--those hides were pretty much ruined, he had definitely left them to soak too long at this point.  He’d go take them and bury them later.

For now, his attention was locked onto his new treasure.  Picking up the book Rose had given him, he opened the cover, immediately greeted by a beautiful ink drawing of several bizarre, unearthly creatures that he could never have expected to see.

In the corner of the picture, however, coiled between spiraling waves of an ocean, was a figure strikingly similar to the mermaid that had saved him.

Immediately, Sorey flipped through the pages, parchment rustling with each movement--careful not to rip the delicate pages, of course--until his eyes finally beheld a figure similar to that he had seen before, with a title that felt peculiarly familiar, like a distant memory itching at his thoughts.

**“Siren”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to elaborate on what kind of sirens the different seraphim translate to in this AU! I've been thinking about this for a while now, and it's high time I finally elaborated on it a little.  
> -Water seraphim sirens are traditional merfolk-looking sirens. They don't have much going for them in appearance but they make up for it with being "magical" compared to the others.  
> -Fire seraphim sirens are much larger and are typically carnivorous. They're better for hunting prey and can defend themselves with outright fighting.  
> -Earth seraphim sirens look more mammalian than their water and fire cousins, typically sporting fur or fine hair rather than scales. They can't breathe underwater, either.  
> -Wind seraphim sirens are.......not sirens at all! What are they? You'll find out later~  
> -Lightning seraphim sirens (like Zenrus) typically display some sort of bioluminescence to their scales, which glow and refract light in various situations.  
> -Darkness seraphim sirens (like Symonne) are deep-sea dwellers, pale and usually blind. They're very vicious in comparison to all other species.


	4. Of Feathers and Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorey's mind can't stop wandering regarding the mysterious sirens. Meanwhile, Mikleo takes a new step in his life.

By the time Sorey was finished reading the chapters pertaining to the mysterious beings known as “Sirens”, the sun had started to peer over the horizon, yet the boy wasn’t remotely tired.  If anything, there were so many questions pouring into his mind that he doubted he would be able to sleep for a week.

Pouring over the information for what felt like the fifteenth time since opening the book, Sorey once more attempted to fit together the various snippets he could recall from his savior, along with the itches in the back of his mind that felt so very familiar to him.  With each line he read, the mark on his cheek ached ever so slightly, as if nudging him toward some sort of truth he needed to uncover.

Scribbling on some sheets of handmade paper with a charcoal stick, he looked through his notes and triple-checked the information in the book.  According to the stories within the pages, sirens were a race of ocean-dwellers long lost to legend, and were known for enticing unsuspecting fishermen to their deaths with their alluring songs.  There were sirens of all different types--some large, some small, some who couldn’t breathe underwater and others who could, and some who were blind and some who blinded others.

The end of the chapter was what perplexed Sorey most.  After an incident that was, sadly, undocumented in any form, a pact was formed between humanity and the sirens, which forbade the two races from ever meeting again.  There was no record of just how long ago said pact was formed, either, so Sorey couldn’t judge just how long it had been.

_ But even so, if they aren’t supposed to interact with humans, why did that one save me...? _

The question continued to nudge its way to the front of Sorey’s mind, alongside the crisp image of the siren in question.  No doubt the pact was the reason why he had fled the way he did, and he could tell that the stories about a siren’s song were true, given how he was lured into the water by that siren’s voice.

On another sheet of paper, Sorey had been idly sketching the siren from memory.  It was only a rough, childlike scrawl, but it was enough that a single glance would refresh the image in his head.

The scar on his cheek began to ache dully again, and Sorey idly poked at it.  For reasons he didn’t understand, the scar kept aching a little while he was reading.  He had wondered if somehow it had come open and ended up infected, but looking in his mirror revealed that there wasn’t even so much as slight inflammation.  Perhaps it was just psychological or something.

Wiping his hands off to get the smears of charcoal off of his fingers, Sorey stood, feeling significantly better than he had the day prior.  His illness all but forgotten, he decided that it would be a good idea to get some hunting in.  The hides he had been tanning to turn into leather were thoroughly ruined, so he would need more--or he could just sell them as pelts.  The weather in Gododdin did stray more to the chilly side, after all, and rabbit pelts did make excellent gloves and shoes.  Plus rabbit stew was quite yummy.

As he gave his face a splash to reinvigorate himself, he jolted when someone knocked on the door.  Rose, most likely.  Using his shirt as a towel, he opened the door and was greeted by the merchant as expected.

“Morning, Rose,” he said with an idle wave.  Rose responded with her usual salute.

“You’re looking better today.  Guess you just needed to sleep it off, huh?”

“Ehh...well, about that, I didn’t sleep.”  He meekly scratched the back of his head, giving a sheepish grin at the way Rose’s jaw dropped.

“Whaaat?!  Were you up all night reading again?  Honestly, you need to seriously take care of yourself!”

“D-don’t worry, I’m fine!  That book was so interesting I couldn’t put it down!  Besides, the medicine you brought me really helped.  Cleared my stomach up in no time.”

“Oh.  Well, that’s good, at least.”  Rose’s expression brightened back up, her cat-like smile back on her face in mere moments.  “Figured I’d drop in to check on you and see how you were feeling.  Guess that cold of yours finally passed?”

“Yep.  I was just about to go set up some rabbit traps.  How’s the pricing on rabbit pelts right now?”

“Pretty good.  One pelt sells for about two thousand gald out in Pendrago.  I think I overheard someone mentioning they wanted to catch a few rabbits themselves down in the market, too.”

“Perfect!  I think about five should do it, then.  Wanna give me a hand?  I’ll let you keep any extras we catch, since I still owe you for those supplies.”

“Nah, I need to meet up with a doctor to check in on the horses.  Lilybell didn’t eat again this morning.”

“Maybe it has something to do with her mouth?  I read that horses sometimes eat things they aren’t supposed to and it hurts their mouths...”

“That makes sense...I’ll have Eguile take a look when I get back to town.”

As they were talking, Sorey took the time to change his clothes--he stunk of seaweed and saltwater, and his shirt felt like it was made of ultra-thick leather.  Rose made sure to turn away and close the door when he stripped down to his smallclothes, waiting until he gave the okay for her to look again.  Once he was dressed again, he gave his hair a quick ruffle with both hands, then carded his fingers through the messy brown locks to fix them back into place.

“Okay, do I look somewhat presentable?  I need to go down to the market after I finish setting things up, and I don’t exactly wanna look like a hobo.”

“You look fine, no worries.”  Rose gave an idle wave and a shrug, then started back towards the door.  “I should be getting back.  Talfryn wanted my help with spreading word about mabo curry buns.  I’ll bring some over later if we have extra!”

“Sounds great!  See you later, Rose!”

With a mutual wave, they parted ways, Rose heading back down the path to the village while Sorey started gathering up some tools to fashion his rabbit traps.  Packing them into a hide sack, he paused after his eyes fell upon the sketch once more.

Something itched in the back of his mind, prompting Sorey to once again ruffle his hair, as if trying to scratch at the itch.  Why did it bother him so much?  Was he supposed to know something about sirens but forgot?  Or did he just want to meet the one who saved him and properly thank him?

Whatever it was, however, he doubted it was going to go away easily, but he needed to focus on his work.

Slinging the sack over his shoulder, he locked up his hut, then made his way toward the forest to get to hunting.

* * *

If Mikleo could groan any louder, he likely would have caused some sort of wave crests on the surface.

After the lecture from Gramps, he thought things would be easier, and he’d decided to just retire to his den to rest.  Unfortunately, he didn’t think that he was going to swim smack into the large bosom of a certain orca-like siren as soon as he left the den.

“Mikleo, it’s so good to see you~!” Lailah practically sang, arms wound around the smaller siren in a warm hug.  Lailah was always warm, like the undersea vents she enjoyed lingering around, and Mikleo would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it a little in contrast to the oft-chilly waters he called home, but at the moment he really just wanted to be alone.

“Good to see you too, Lailah,” he mumbled, voice muffled slightly due to the tight mesh wrappings that Lailah liked to wear around her chest.  He wondered off-handedly if she had somehow gotten her hands on some fishing nets and woven them into an outfit.  “Why are you in Elysia?  You rarely ever leave the waters around Ladylake.”

“I wanted to pay Zenrus a visit,” Lailah replied as she released Mikleo from her vicegrip embrace.  “It’s been years since I properly came to see him, after all.  Oh, I remember when you were just a tiny little guppy who couldn’t even use his tail right!  You’ve grown up a lot since then!”

As if to embarrass him further, Lailah gave Mikleo’s cheeks a gentle pinch and tug, despite the whining sounds he let out in response.  “Goodness, you’ve gotten so big, Mikleo.  Time sure does fly, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does, huh...”  It certainly didn’t feel like it was very long since Mikleo had last seen Lailah--perhaps he was just imagining it, or dreamed it at some point.  “A-anyway, I’m gonna go see if anyone needed my help.  It was good seeing you, Lailah.”

“Good to see you too.  You stay safe, okay?  Oh--Natalie did want to see you, actually.  She said she wanted to teach you how to create your own song.”

That brought pause to Mikleo, whose eyes practically sparkled with elation.  His own song!  The one he knew wasn’t his own--it was a simple lullaby that Gramps used to sing for him when he was small.  This meant he was finally going to be considered an adult, and no longer a pup.  With a wide grin, he darted to another den not far from his own, spotting the flowing blue hair and flailing to slow down before crashing into the owner of said hair.

“Wow, you sure look excited to see me,” Natalie teased, gently nudging him in the ribs with her elbow.  “Last time I saw you that excited was when you did that double flip and didn’t get dizzy afterwards.”

A light flush covered Mikleo’s cheeks, but he quickly slapped his own face to will it away before trying to calm down.  “Lailah said you were going to teach me how to make my own song.  Is that true?”

“It is.  Your eighteenth birthday just passed, after all, and I think it’s time we stopped treating you like a helpless pup.  Your Gramps actually came to me to ask me to teach you, so this is your official rite of passage.”

That bit of information brought an air of seriousness into the conversation.  He thought Natalie had decided him to be old enough for his own song--he wasn’t expecting Gramps to have been the one to decide.  Did he decide this after his escapade to the surface, or was this planned for a while...?  If anything, Mikleo had expected Gramps to choose to coddle him further after that lecture, but now...

“...Mikleo?  Are you okay?”

Natalie’s voice snapped Mikleo out of his thoughts, and he nodded.  “Yeah, sorry.  I was just thinking.”

“This is a pretty big step in your life.  I can’t really blame you.”  Offering him a gentle smile, Natalie patted him on the head, then casually drifted backwards.  “Come on in.  We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

“Right.”

 

* * *

Fortune seemed to be smiling on Sorey in apology for nearly drowning him, and he couldn’t help grinning as he trekked down to the marketplace with his catch--over a dozen nice sized rabbits of various colors, plump and cleaned and ready for both a meal and a pelt.  Four more were in his own hut, hanging up and ready for him to skin.

With a rack full of rabbits perched on his shoulder, Sorey certainly gained a few awed looks and exclamations from the other merchants.  One even offered to buy half of them on the spot as he walked past, but he had his eyes set on one particular group of merchants.

“Ho there, Sorey!  That’s quite the haul, isn’t it?”

And speaking of said merchants, there was Eguile, grinning as he approached with a wave.  “In Rose’s words, I think you might have a golden horseshoe up your ass.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you catch this many rabbits in one go.”

“There’s more at my hut, actually,” Sorey noted, resisting the urge to grin even wider at the shocked look that crossed the older man’s face.  “Is Rose here?  I promised her I’d bring you guys any extras I managed to catch as payment for those supplies you guys brought me.”

“Ah, you’re still hung up on that?  Don’t worry about it.  Think of it as a gift for all the times you’ve done business with us.”  Eguile casually waved off Sorey’s worry in a motion so familiar he could tell exactly where Rose picked it up.  “By the way, Rose told me you were up all night reading that book?”

And there the grin disappeared, replaced with embarrassment.  “Uh...yeah.  It was a really good read.”

“I’m glad.  Happy almost-birthday, Sorey.  You’re turning eighteen, right?”

...Wait, what?

Sorey’s brow furrowed, and he looked toward the bulletin board set up in the center of the marketplace, namely at the calendar in the corner.  Verdant eyes looked over it closely, before his jaw dropped.  Somehow, in the wake of trying to get things together for the Sparrowfeathers, and meeting a siren, Sorey lost track of days so badly that he didn’t notice that his birthday was in just two days.

“That was a birthday gift?  Rose said it was just something you saw while you were in Marlind and thought I’d like it!”

“Oops.  Well, surprise, that was our birthday gift to you.  The supplies were actually Rose’s gift.”

That would explain why Rose insisted on not taking payment, and only requested a pound of meat in exchange for medicine.  It was really just a gift for him--a very, very large gift.

“Hey, Eguile, we got a bit of a situation!”

Sorey didn’t get a chance to ponder things further before the Ayn twins, Talfryn and Felice, approached the two.  Felice immediately directed her attention to Sorey’s haul of rabbits, eyes sparkling as she beheld the shiny fur and plump meat.  Talfryn, meanwhile, kept his attention on Eguile, speaking directly to him.

“Rose found another one of those feathers near the stables.  They sell for a lot, but she thinks that Lilybell isn’t eating because she’s been so spooked by whatever drops them.  It was right by the feed bucket.”

“Feathers...?”  Sorey tilted his head slightly, prompting a clarification from Felice.

“We’ve been finding these really huge feathers lately,” she explained.  “And I mean  _ huge _ .  Like, longer than your forearm.  This last one was about as long as my thigh.”

“Scribes buy them and make extravagant quills with them,” Talfryn added.  “They sell for about three or four thousand gald a pop, but we haven’t figured out just what kind of bird drops a feather that big.”

Giant feathers...Sorey had a hunch he would have to consult his new encyclopedia, but for now, he would keep his nose out of their business.  “Well, hopefully you find whatever’s dropping them.  By the way, where’s Rose right now?  I wanna do business with her.”

“Oh, she’s at the stables with Rosh.  Follow me.”  Eguile gave a lazy gesture, then started walking down one of the roads with Sorey following close behind him and the twins not far behind Sorey.

One very long “HOLY CRAP” from Rose later, followed by a brief bit of negotiation for prices, and Sorey sold the rabbits to the Sparrowfeathers for a hefty sum of over twenty thousand gald.   _ This should be more than enough to get me through for a few months, _ he mused as he started trekking back up the path to his hut,  _ especially with all the supplies Rose gave me.  I think I should be set until the weather changes again, but I do still wanna catch some fish.  Maybe tomorrow. _

Reaching his door, he prepared to open it, but paused as he reached for the handle.  The itch in his mind was back again, and without the distraction of hunting rabbits, it wasn’t going away.

Looking toward the ocean, he took just a brief moment of contemplation before heading down toward the dock once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! It's Lailah! I was torn between Mikleo talking to her or to Edna, but I decided I'll wait a bit on Edna. I have my reasons for that.
> 
> Lailah is sort of like a godmother to Mik, so she dotes on him a lot. Natalie was more or less a babysitter for when ol' Zenny needed a break. She was the one who taught Mikleo how to sing in the first place, otherwise he would be tonedeaf like it was nobody's business.
> 
> As for the deal with Mikleo learning his own song, here's the dealio with that: a siren's song is kind of like a fingerprint. It's different between every siren and even identical twins wouldn't have the same song. The songs are a reflection of the siren singing it, and when a siren like Mikleo, whose voice is already magical, sings their own personal song, miraculous feats can be performed. Sirens creating their own songs is just one step in reaching adulthood--the second step comes after the song is finished.


End file.
